Toxaris vel amicitia

Lucian of Samosata

Selections from Lucian. Smith, Emily James, translators. New York; Harper Brothers, 1892.

Toxaris Now listen, my amazing friend, and observe how much more candidly we barbarians judge good men than you Greeks. In Argos and Mykenai there is not even a noble tomb to be seen of Orestes and Pylades, but in our country there is shown a temple raised to them in common, as was natural since they were comrades, and sacrifices are offered to them and all other honors. The fact that they were foreigners, not Scythians, does not in the least prevent their being adjudged good men. For we do not ask whence noble and good people come, and we bear them no grudge for working good deeds, even if they are not our friends. On the contrary we applaud their acts, and adopt them as countrymen on the strength of them. But what we chiefly wondered at and praised in these men was this, that they seemed to us to be the noblest pair of friends in the world, and authorized to lay down for the rest of mankind the principle that friends must share all fortunes, and thus win the reverence of the best of the Scythians.

Our ancestors inscribed an account of their sufferings with each other, or for each other, on a

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bronze pillar and set it up as an offering in the Oresteion, making a law that the earliest training and education of their children should be to learn by heart the inscription on this pillar. The result is that it would be easier for one of them to forget his father's name than to be in ignorance of the deeds of Orestes and Pylades. Moreover, on the wall enclosing the temple there are ancient pictures displaying everything related on the pillar. One shows Orestes sailing in company with his friend; another shows him captured after his ship went to pieces on the rocks and made ready for the sacrifice, with Iphigeneia in the act of beginning the ceremony. On the opposite wall he is seen at the moment when he had burst his bonds and was killing Thoas and a number of other Scythians, and, finally, they are painted sailing away with Iphigeneia and the goddess. The Scythians are vainly trying to stop the ship, which is already under sail, and are hanging in the rigging and trying to board her; but they fail completely and some get wounded, and others, in fear of a like fate, swim off to land.

In this picture we can see best how much tenderness they showed for each other in the struggle with the Scythians. For the artist has depicted each careless of his own opponents, but warding off attacks on his friend, and trying to receive the missiles intended for him, thinking it nothing to

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die in saving his friend and taking on his own body the blow aimed at the other. Such devotion as this of theirs, such partnership in dangers, the faithfulness and good-fellowship and honesty and firmness of their mutual love, seemed to us not to belong to human nature, but to a finer temperament than that of men. For the majority, as long as the wind is favorable, take it ill if their friends do not divide their pleasures with them in equal shares, but if there comes the least breath of adversity they leave them to face danger alone. I will tell you another thing, too, that there is no office of friendship that a Scythian thinks greater, nor anything in which he takes more pride, than helping a friend in trouble and sharing his dangers, so that we think the hardest name a man can be called is "traitor to friendship." This is the reason we honor Orestes and Pylades, who were the best in what the Scythians deem good, and pre-eminent in friendship, which we admire above all things. So we have given them the name of “Korakoi,” which in our language signifies "genii of friendship."

Mnesippos Toxaris, I see that the Scythians have not only been great archers, and better than other nations in warlike pursuits, but are also the most persuasive orators in the world. For though I was of the other opinion a while ago, I now think you are quite right to deify

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Orestes and Pylades. And I had no idea, my dear fellow, that you were a good painter as well. You have brought before me most vividly the pictures in the Oresteion, and the battle of the heroes and their vicarious wounds; but I never should have supposed that friendship was made so much of among the Scythians. I thought that inasmuch as they are inhospitable and wild, they dwelt together in constant feud and passion and anger, and entertained no friendship towards even their next of kin, judging from the things we hear of them, and particularly that they eat their fathers when they are dead.

Toxaris Whether we are juster and more pious than the Greeks in these other matters, such as our relations with our parents, is not a point that I care to dispute with you at present; but it is easy to show that Scythian friends are far truer than Greek friends, and friendship is made more of by us than by you. Now, by the gods of the Greeks, do not take it ill if I tell you some of the things I have noted in my long stay among you. You seem to me to be able to discuss friendship, it is true, better than other people, but your practice of it is by no means worthy of your preaching. In fact, you are perfectly satisfied when you have eulogized it and shown how great a good it is, and in time of need you forsake your theories and make your escape somehow

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from the thick of action. Whenever the tragedians mount the stage and show you instances of the friendship you admire, you cry, "Bravo!" and applaud; and when they run into danger for another, most of you are even moved to tears; but in your own persons you do not venture to perform any praiseworthy act for another; and if your friend happens to be in need of anything, all these sentiments of tragedy instantly take to themselves wings and fly away like dreams, leaving you like those empty, hollow masks whose great yawning mouths utter not the slightest sound. With us the case is reversed; for in proportion as we are poorer in arguments about friendship we are richer in its works.

Come, now, let us do something of this sort, if it takes your fancy. Let us leave the friends of old whom you or I could count out of the question; for under that head you would be rich in them, summoning many credible poets to testify to the friendship of Achilles and Patroklos, and the camaraderie of Theseus and Peirithoos and the others, singing them in metre with the most beautiful language. But let us select a few from our contemporaries and tell their exploits-I for Scythia, you for Greece-and he who is victorious and able to produce the best friends will be openly the better man, and will proclaim his the better country, because he has won in a very noble

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and beautiful contest. For my part, I should vastly prefer losing my right hand for having been worsted in single combat-that is the Scythian forfeit to being judged inferior to another man in respect of friendship, and that, too, though I am a Greek Scythian myself.

Mnesippos It is no joke, Toxaris, to venture single combat with a man like you for opponent, equipped with arguments so pointed and so apt. However, I will not basely leave the whole Greek cause in the lurch on such short notice and retire before you; for, seeing that so many Scythians, as your stories and ancient paintings show, of which you delivered such a vigorous account a little while ago, were worsted by two, it would be a great scandal if all the Greeks, so many nations and so many cities as they are, should lose their case by default to you. If this should happen, it would be fair to cut off, not my right hand, as your custom is, but my tongue. But shall we limit ourselves as to the number of friendly exploits, or shall he who is able to mention most have so much better chance of victory?

Toxaris Oh dear, no. Let us agree that victory shall not lie in the number of exploits; but if yours are better and more striking than mine, though the same in number, they will, of course, wound me more vitally, and I shall give way sooner before their blows.

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Mnesippos Very well. Let us agree how many are enough. Five apiece, it strikes me.

Toxaris I think so, too. But first declare, and upon oath, that you will speak the very truth. Otherwise, to invent this kind of thing is no great job, and refutation would be difficult; but if you should take your oath it would be impious not to believe you.

Mnesippos We will swear, if you do not think an oath superfluous. But which of our gods do you Or will the God of Friendship do?

Toxaris Certainly; but I will take our national oath when it is my turn to speak.

Mnesippos Then let Zeus, the God of Friendship, witness that all I shall tell you I speak either of my own knowledge or having learned from others, with all the exactitude in my power, and adding nothing of my own to the story.

[His first story celebrates the friendship of Agathokles of Samos for Deinias of Ephesos. Deinias was a very rich young man, who was surrounded by evil companions, and soon wasted his whole substance in riotous living. Thereupon Agathokles, a man of moderate means and his friend from childhood, whose good advice had made him insupportable in the heyday of Deinias's prosperity, sold the house of his fathers and handed over the proceeds to his friend. Deinias finally killed two persons in a disgraceful

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embroglio, and was sentenced to transportation for life to one of the Cyclades. Agathokles accompanied him into exile, tended him through a long illness, and after his death continued to live in the island to be near the grave of his friend.]

Toxaris I wish you were not on oath, Mnesippos, so that I might be at liberty to disbelieve your story. By your account this Agathokles is a true Scythian in friendship. I hope you are not going to tell of any one else like him.

Mnesippos Then hear about another, Euthydikos of Chalkis. Simylos, the ship-master of Megara, told me the story, swearing that he had seen the thing with his own eyes. He said he was sailing from Italy to Athens early in the autumn, carrying passengers from various places, and among these were Euthydikos and Damon his friend, a Chalkidian like himself. They were of the same age, but Euthydikos was strong and robust, while Damon was pale and feeble and seemed to be just recovering from a long illness. Now, as far as Sicily, Simylos said, the voyage was prosperous, but when they had passed through the strait and come out into the Ionian Sea a great storm fell upon them. It would be useless to give the details-whelming waves and waterspouts and hail-storms and all the horrors of a gale. But when they were just off Zakynthos,

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scudding under bare poles, with cordage dangling overboard to break the force of the sea, Damon grew sea-sick in such a pitching and tossing, and leaned over the side of the ship to vomit. Just then, I suppose, the ship heeled over more violently to that side and the wave receded at the same time. At all events, he fell head foremost into the sea with all his clothes on, poor wretch! which made swimming all the harder. He straightway gave a choking shriek, hardly keeping himself on top of the wave.

When Euthydikos, who happened to have his clothes off in bed, heard it, he threw himself into the sea, got hold of Damon, who had already given upall this could be seen from a distance in the bright moonlight—and swam along with him, helping to keep him above water. Those on the ship were eager to help them and full of pity for their fate, but they could no nothing, running before such a gale. One thing only was possible, and that they did; they threw overboard for them a great number of corks and some puntingpoles, so that they might swim on one of these if they chanced on it; and finally they threw over the companion - ladder bodily, which was a large one. Consider, now, in Heaven's name, what stronger proof of affection a man could give to his friend who had fallen by night into such a wild

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sea than to share his death! Pray, call before your eyes the towering waves, the noise of the broken water, the boiling foam, the night, the despair; then that drowning man, hardly keeping his head above water, stretching out his hands to his comrade, and the comrade leaping to him instantly and swimming with him, fearful lest Damon should perish before him. This is the way to see that in Euthydikos, too, I have described for you no unworthy friend.

Toxaris Were they lost, Mnesippos, or were they saved by some miracle? I am greatly alarmed about them.

Mnesippos Be comforted. They were saved, and they are in Athens at this moment, pursuing philosophy. Simylos could only tell me what he saw that night, that the one fell overboard and the other leaped after him, and that they were swimming together as far as they could be seen in the night. But the sequel I learned from Euthydikos's friends. In the first place, they came upon some of the corks and supported themselves on these, swimming with difficulty; and later, towards daybreak, they saw the companion and swam to it, and, mounted on this, they swam easily the rest of the way to Zakynthos.

After these, who are not bad specimens in my opinion, hear of a third man no whit worse than they. Eudamidas of Corinth, himself a very poor

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man, had two rich friends, Aretaios of Corinth and Charixenes of Sikyon. When he died he left a will, which perhaps may seem absurd to others, but I am not at all sure that such things do to you, a man of virtue, who honor friendship, and are competing for the first prize in it. The will read: "I bequeath to Aretaios my mother to support and tend in her old age, and to Charixenes my daughter to give in marriage, with as large a dowry as he can afford,”—for he had an aged mother and a young daughter just of marriageable age -"and if, in the mean time, anything happens to either of the legatees, let the other," said the will, "take his share." When this will was read, those who knew the poverty of Eudamidas but were not aware of the friendship between him and the legatees, turned the matter to a jest, and every one of them went off laughing and saying that Aretaios and Charixenes had come into a joyful inheritance if they were to make payment to Eudamidas, and if they who were living were to leave their property to a dead man.

But the heirs to whom these things were bequeathed came as soon as they heard of it, and carried out the provisions of the will. Now, Charixenes died only five days. later, and Aretaios showed himself the best of heirs by assuming both his own share and the other's. He still supports Eudamidas's mother, and the daughter he gave in marriage not long

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ago. Of his estate of five thousand dollars he gave two thousand with his own daughter and two thousand with the daughter of his friend, and deemed it right to celebrate both marriages on the same day. What do you think of Aretaios, Toxaris? Does he seem to you to furnish a bad example of friendship, inheriting such a legacy and not betraying his friend's bequest? Or shall our mature decision be to place him as one among the five ?

Toxaris He, too, is a noble man. But I admire far more the confidence which Eudamidas placed in his friends. He showed that he, too, would have done likewise for them, even if the duty had not been left him by will, and would have been the first to come as the unappointed heir of such a legacy.

Mnesippos You are right. But I will tell you of a fourth, Zenothemis, the son of Charmoleos, from Marseilles. He was pointed out to me in Italy when I was there on an embassy from our government, and he was a tall, handsome man, and apparently rich. There sat beside him in his carriage a woman who was hideous in every way. Her right side, moreover, was withered, and she had lost an eye. She was altogether deformed, a revolting scarecrow. On my expressing wonder that a man so handsome and in the prime of life could endure to have such a woman

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ure. driving about with him, the man who had pointed him out told me what had necessitated the marriage, for he knew all the circumstances perfectly, being himself a native of Marseilles. He said that Menekrates, the father of the ill-favored woman, and Zenothemis were friends, and equals in riches and position. But after a while Menekrates was deprived of his estate, and at the same time disfranchised by a condemnation of the Six Hundred for proposing an unconstitutional meas- This, he said, was the penalty in Marseilles for making unconstitutional propositions. Now Menekrates was in great grief, partly because of the scandal of the condemnation, and partly because from being a rich and honored man he was now become poor, and of no reputation. But his greatest trouble was his daughter, who was already marriageable, being eighteen years old, but of so ill-favored an aspect that no one, however humbly born or poor, would have seen fit to take her without a struggle, even with all the fortune her father once possessed. She was also said to have epileptic fits at the waxing of the moon.

But Zenothemis, to whom he was pouring out these griefs, said to him, “Cheer up, Menekrates. You are not utterly destitute, nor will your daughter fail to find a bridegroom worthy of her race." So saying, he took him by the hand, led him to his house, and presented him with a share of his

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great estate. Then he gave orders for a banquet, and feasted his friends and Menekrates just as if he had persuaded one of his companions to agree to marry the girl. When the banquet was over, and they had poured libations to the gods, he offered a brimming goblet to Menekrates and said: "Receive a loving-cup from your son-in-law, for this day I shall marry your daughter, Kydimache. Her dowry I took a long time ago, twenty-five thousand dollars." "Out with you!" cried Menekrates. “I hope neither you nor I is so mad as to forget your youth and beauty, and see you yoked with this unsightly, disfigured girl." But while he was still speaking the other carried off the bride and presently came back, having married her. And from that day he has held to her with great affection, and takes her everywhere with him, as you see.

Far from being ashamed of his marriage, he seems to take pride in it, showing that he despises bodily charms or blemishes and wealth and public opinion, but regards only his friend Menekrates, who, he thinks, is none the worse in respect of friendship because of the condemnation of the Six Hundred. However, Fortune herself has rewarded his deeds in this way this ugly woman bore him a most beautiful child, and the other day his father took him up and carried him into the senate, garlanded

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with the suppliant's twigs and wrapped in black garments to make him the more pathetic, to plead for his grandfather. And when the baby laughed aloud at the senators and clapped his hands, they warmed to the child and reversed the decision against Menekrates; and at present he is enfranchised again, thanks to the advocate he employed with the senate. This, then, is what the man from Marseilles said Zenothemis had done for his friend, a noble action, as you see, and such as few Scythians would do, who are said to be particular in choosing the most beautiful women even for their harems.

We have the fifth case still to consider, and I should not like to name another man and pass over Demetrios of Sounion. This Demetrios sailed to Egypt in company with Antiphilos of Alopeke. They were friends from childhood, being of the same age, and they lived together as students in Egypt, Demetrios pursuing the Cynic system under that famous sophist from Rhodes, and Antiphilos studying medicine. It came to pass after a while that Demetrios went into the interior to see the Pyramids and the Memnon, for he had heard of the Pyramids that, in spite of their height, they throw no shadow, and of the Memnon that it cries out at the rising of the sun. Being desirous, then, of seeing the Pyramids and

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hearing the Memnon, he sailed up the Nile, leaving Antiphilos, who dreaded the journey and the heat, behind. When Demetrios had been gone six months,